


A caffeine fix

by yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern AU, brian has a man bun again and I’m not apologising, coffee shop AU, freddie is a fierce diva queen, lots of coffee lingo, prenters a prick, sad childhood, sad roger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 05:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19056178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh/pseuds/yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh
Summary: Roger hated his job.That was until he got a visit from a certain singer, and with the promise of a local band night on the horizon, Roger catches himself falling for the dashing guitarist.But is Brian enough to save Roger from falling into something much darker than a double espresso?





	A caffeine fix

**Author's Note:**

> HI THERE!
> 
> Yes I’m back. The bitch is back and I bet yall are glad. Anyway here is my self-indulgent coffee shop fic and I hope yall enjoy it.
> 
> Comments are super important to me. If you give it a read PLEASE let me know what you think by leaving a comment. It means the absolute world to me.

Roger loathed Friday shifts.

If it wasn’t for his dickhead manager putting him on every 6pm-12 am shift every single Friday night, he could be out having time of his life, drinking to forget about the lecture he probably didn’t turn up to earlier that day, or even better, already tucked up and fast asleep in bed, dreading the next early morning or late night shift he was inevitably put on. No. He truly loathed Friday shifts.

Normally, he could put on a fake smile and grin and bear the irritating customers he was graced with. Sometimes it was a gaggle of girls on the way back from a night out, laughing too loudly for Roger’s sleep deprived head, or the drunk and rowdy men, who’d either mistake Roger for a girl and chat him up, or just look for a fight with the exhausted and unimpressed blond. Either way, Roger stayed silent and made their blasted coffee, taking secret swigs of a double espresso when no one was looking, and he didn’t even like coffee, just to cure the pounding headache he was always left with as they slammed the door behind them. Most of the time not even a double shot of the disgusting thing could cure it, and he would instead take as many smoke breaks as physically possible hoping a cigarette could numb him enough to finish the shift.

Worst of all was when it was empty, and he was left alone with the blaring radio playing crap disco remixes and his intrusive thoughts. He couldn’t even manage to get 30 minutes of shut eye without someone barging in demanding a flat white to go, therefore ruining his few moments of peace.

Now, it wasn’t as if Roger hated working. He loved talking to people, hearing their stories whilst making internal character judgements. It was a like a game he played to entertain himself. He especially loved talking to the little old ladies that would come and visit him when his shift started. They would constantly ask him if he had found a nice girlfriend yet (or boyfriend once Roger corrected them), press his chubby cheeks when he switched on his charm and complimented them on the dresses they were wearing. His favourite was Maggie, a 67 year old pensioner who had a shock of pink hair and a nose piercing and was everything Roger wanted to be when he was 67. Maggie would even take the liberty of tipping him every time he made a coffee, however nothing could beat the short and sharp insults she would shoot to Roger’s boss when he was behaving like a prick to the barista. She would even stick her finger up at him to make the blond laugh.

Despite the occasional good customer, Roger would often take the liberty to call his sister weekly and rant down the phone about how much he hated his life and his job, yet Claire knew it came from a desperate place. The only reason Roger didn’t pack in the job on the first occasion Paul was cruel to him was because of the promise he made to himself after he came out to his parents and his father cut off all his funds, leaving the then 16 year old homeless and penniless- left to fend for himself. He would do this himself. He didn’t need a family.

He didn’t mind normally. The five years that had passed were all it had taken for Roger to convince himself that he didn’t need them anyway. He’d manage to get a full ride scholarship for a biology course at Imperial, all whilst crashing on Claire’s sofa. She had been the mother he never truly had all these years, and that was why, he decided that university was the time he would make her proud. He snatched up the first job he could find to put the deposit down on a dirty, small flat in a dingy neighbourhood and scraped by just enough to get the essential food items each week. No matter how hungry he got, or depressed he felt at work, he was going to prove himself. He was independent and he could do this with or without parents by his side. He didn’t want to worry Claire even more after everything she had done for him.

Tonight was like any other night. Maggie had visited earlier to get a take out cappuccino but stayed to chat to Roger for just over half an hour, but now boredom had struck. Roger was slumped over the bar counter, watching the second hand on the clock tick agonisingly slowly, counting down the moments until he was free, and could begin the 20 minute walk back to his empty flat and flop on the bed, having the nap he so deserved. Just the thought of his duvet that he had changed earlier today cold and ready for Roger’s stiff limbs was enough to crack a smile-

“Hey darling, can I order?”

Roger was pulled from his dreamlike trance by a young, exotic-looking man standing in front of him. His shoulder length brown hair fell gently and framed his face, much like Roger’s but in brunet. The warm brown eyes held so much happiness that Roger couldn’t stay mad at him for interrupting his thoughts for long.

“Sorry man, what can I get you?” Roger offered a weak apologetic smile, already fishing out a disposable cup and lid from under the bar counter as the guy looked at the giant menu behind Roger’s head, frowning slightly as he decided.

“An iced chai macchiato with oat milk, whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles please.” He said, and Roger felt his heart sink as all of the previous tolerance he felt for the man vanished into thin air as a result of the order. He almost felt a tear escape just as the man smirked. “Joking- just a tea please”

Roger breathed a sigh of relief, grinning at the man’s slight chuckle at his horrified face. He could already tell that the man in front of him held the same dry and sarcastic sense of humour as the blond himself.

“So why are you out so late man?” Roger questioned, glancing at the clock displaying 11:25pm as he filled up the mug with boiling water. “Not that I care in particular.”

The brunet laughed again, showing a glimpse of big teeth behind his lips that made his whole smile light up. He began drumming on the wooden countertop as Roger filled the drink with milk.

“Band rehearsal” was the simple answer, one that made Roger slowly turn to face him with an impressive smile.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Roger was a rock musician, from his tousled long blond locks to his skilled and calloused fingers. Even the guy in front of him who he had known for a total of 3 minutes could have guessed it from the way Jimi Hendrix was blaring loudly from the shitty speaker, sounding very out of place in an empty town cafe on a Friday night. However, the idea that the person in front of Roger was in a band both excited and annoyed the blond. Excited, as he could talk for hours about rock music, and annoyed him as it was a reminder that due to him working all the fucking time, he would never have any time to be in a band.

“Really now? What do you play?” Roger asked, trying not to sound too interested as he screwed the lid on the cup, watching the way the man’s eyes light up almost immediately.

“Darling I am the instrument.” He announced, winking at Roger to make him smirk, scoffing slightly. He cleared his throat for good measure.

“Typical singer” Roger retorted, the customer gasping in mock horror. “Nothing on me and my instrument.” The blond challenged, rolling up his sleeve to clench his toned biceps, attempting to impress the singer.

“Let me guess mardyarse. Drummer boy?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrow which made Roger hum in response.

“Very good Beyoncé. Am I that easy to read?”

“Not at all.” Freddie remarked, with a complete change of tone. “I’m actually just convinced I’m psychic.”

Before Roger could interrupt with another teasing remark, all the previous lightness in the atmosphere fizzled out as the front door to the cafe slammed open, and Roger’s smile fell from his face.

A groan escaped his mouth as the familiar face of his boss Paul rounded the corner to get behind the bar, glaring at Roger as he did so. Paul always made the decision that in order to piss Roger off as much as possible, he would turn up to The Rainbow Cafe at least half an hour before Roger’s shift ended. He insisted it was because he had to lock up every night, however Roger knew different from the way he would purposely leave milk residue all over the coffee machine, and use about 10 thousand cups that Roger would inevitably have to clean up, dragging his shift on for even longer.

“Roger, I do hope you aren’t going to leave the coffee machine in this state. I knew you were lazy but this is a new low.” His Irish accent snapped sharply, causing Roger to grind his teeth and count to ten to stop himself from turning around and snapping the scrawny neck of his boss. Just before he could mutter a fiery insult in retaliation, the Irish man piped up again, this time targeting the singer. Poor customer. Roger was beginning to like him and now he was going to be too scarred to come back.

“Now now now, who do we have here?” He snided, baring his teeth in a false grin to the unsuspecting man. “I hope Roger wasn’t keeping you.” He laughed, extending his clammy hand for the guy to shake. 

“Freddie Mercury.” The singer smiled, wrapping both hands around his takeout mug. “Actually no, Roger and I were enjoying a pleasant conversation.” He smirked slightly, causing an amused huff from Roger.

“Oh really?” Paul faked interest, whipping his head round, clearly feeling out of the joke. “What was it about?”

“We were just talking out our shared interest in music.” Freddie shrugged. “I’m a singer and Roger is a drummer.”

At this point, Roger could see right through Prenter’s mind. He obviously saw this good looking man as his prey, judging from the way his eyes darkened slightly and the way he stood blocking Roger from serving his customer, nothing but pure lust coarsing through his veins. That’s why Roger wasn’t at all shocked by the desperate man’s next move.

“A singer eh?” He cocked his head to the side, running his tongue around the interior of his mouth. Roger could see the cogs turning in his head as he was silent for a few moments. “We have a local talent night next week, why don’t you do us a set?”

“We do?” Roger snorted from the corner, clearly amused at the way Prenter could lie without any hesitation. Never in all of his 5 months working there had there been a ‘local talent night’. Roger thought it suitable to cross his arms and cock an eyebrow to Freddie in good measure.

“Yes we do.” Paul hurriedly interrupted, turning his grin back to Freddie, who was watching Prenter’s actions closely. “Now what do you say?”

No one could hear the way Roger was silently begging the singer to say no, all for the pure embarrassment of the Irishman. Roger would have a field day.

“Um... sure.” Freddie decided. “I’ll let my band know. What day is this gig?” He asked, trying not to smirk at the way Roger grabbed a ceramic mug off the side and aimed it at Prenter’s head.

“Next Friday. Right Roger?” The man decided, quickly turning to face the blond who appropriately (in his eyes) mocked a salute to his boss.

“Yes sir.” He confirmed and once again, Freddie snorted.

And as Roger marched into the kitchen keeping up his soldier display to amuse Freddie and piss off Paul, he left the pair to sort the details of this brand new ‘event’. To busy himself, he quickly chose to snatch away Prenter’s half full coffee mug, dumping it in the sink just to annoy him. His snide digs later were worth it just to see his aggravation.

Just as Roger checked his phone to see 11:55pm flash up on his screen, he heard Freddie call out a chirpy goodbye to him and he quickly yelled one back, internally praising all the Gods in heaven that Freddie’s presence meant he was not left alone with Paul. He would happily call this shift a success. 

As the front door slammed shut, Roger took his cue to hastily gather all his things: his textbook he was meant to be studying from but abandoned it 10 minutes in, his phone and his leather jacket, before muttering an “I’m clocking off” to Paul, not waiting to hear his disgruntled reply as he followed suit and slammed the door behind him.

And finally, Roger was out from the room reeking of cheap coffee and the cigarettes Paul smoked and into the silent night, only polluted by the distant sound of honking horns and flashing headlights from cars zooming in the distance and suddenly, the boy could breathe again. 

He struggled to stay sane, what with the lack of roommates meaning the rent was all his, endless lectures that he should be turning up to but didn’t have the energy to and of course his god awful job, however something about seeing the stars as he clocked out of a late night Friday shift with the promise of a glorious 7 days before his next shift at the cafe helped center him and his racing, anxiety riddled mind even for just a minute. His head was clear of the typical sad thoughts as he gazed upwards, watching the different constellations, trying to fathom their existence. The stars reminded Roger that his sad, lonely little life meant nothing to the universe. Here for now but gone in an instant, and nothing in the grand scheme of things in the great big universe. There were billions and billions before him and after him. It was both pessimistic and beautiful.

However this week, something burned within his chest as he sighed to the stars, and it wasn’t just the nicotine buzz from the cigarette he was currently puffing. No. It was the promise that with Freddie, something beautiful was on the horizon.

And he for one walked home with a spring in his step. And for the first time in forever:

He was excited for his next shift.


End file.
